


Ozone  (oh baby, you ain't got nothin' on me)

by ElisAttack



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Fluff and Crack, Hell everyone finds out, Including Stiles, M/M, POV Derek, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Stiles is Superman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the day after Stiles 18th birthday, and he smells alien.    </p><p>Or the one where Derek sorts through some things (dare he say feelings?), and Stiles might be Superman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what motivated this, but this is my first Teen Wolf fic, enjoy

Stiles smells different.  The constant scent of baking bread still lazily radiating off his skin, but now overwhelmed by heavy ozone.  It's something Derek's never scented on a human before, and it makes his nose itchy.  It radiates off the boy like he spends all his time within an oncoming storm.

None of the other werewolves notice anything off.  And if they do, they say nothing. 

Over time it becomes less bothersome, and more suspicious, especially when Derek notices other things off about Stiles. 

Like how he is suddenly one inch taller.  Which admittedly Derek only noticed after he pushed Stiles against his door, sniffing him and tying to find the source of ozone, only to look up, instead of down.

Stiles calls it a growth spurt.  Derek calls a pack meeting, and doesn't invite Stiles.

"Something is wrong with Stiles."  He declares to the pack sitting in his living room.

"Yeah, and what's new?"  Jackson scoffs, typing away on his phone, already looking bored.

"He's an inch taller."

"It's called a growth spurt."  Scott unhelpfully explains.

"Teenagers do not suddenly grow an inch over the course of one day."  Derek frowns.  "You idiot."  He adds for posterity's sake.  Scott sticks his tongue out.

The doorbell rings, and Derek tunes in, hearing Stiles, his heart beating frantically.  "Come on Derek, I know you guys are in there.  Scott can't keep a secret to save his life." 

Derek glares at Scott for telling Stiles about the ultra secret pack meeting, before going to let Stiles in.

Stiles shuffles, his hands twitching nervously.  "So guys, something is very wrong with me."

See, Derek was right.  For once.

Stiles very gingerly takes his phone out of his pocket, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he unlocks it and gently flicks through it, before handing it to Derek.

At first Derek doesn't understand what he's seeing, until he notices the powder blue of Stiles' jeep, and the crumpled up metal.  This is a picture of Stiles' jeep door.  Bent in half.  Derek worriedly looks over Stiles, searching for any sort of injury on the boy.  Finding none, he figures something must have hit the jeep while Stiles wasn't in it, because this is the driver's door, and he would be in a much worse state if he was in the jeep when this happened.  Derek passes the phone around the pack before addressing the boy.

"Did you see what did this?"  It can't be a omega threatening Stiles, smelling a pack on him.  Weres can bend metal, but folding a whole door in half, that's a different story.  It must be something else.

Stiles scratches his head sheepishly.  "Yeah."  He takes a deep breath.  "I did."

Derek stares at him.  "Excuse me?"

"So I was pissed at you guys leaving me out of a pack meet, and kinda slammed my poor baby's door, and next thing I know metal is crumbling beneath my fingers."  Stiles looks down at his hands in horror.  "Maybe I was bitten and didn't know?"

"Whoa Stilinski."  Erica breathes out, her eyebrows raised and impressed.  "You're one of the cool kids now."  She raises her hand for a high five but Jackson passes the phone to her, and she thinks better of it, hand dropping.

Derek frowns but goes up to Stiles, and takes a long sniff.  He smells no foreign alpha, just bread and invasive ozone.  He takes Stiles' hands in his, examining them for any sign of injury a human might get while caving in a fucking metal door. 

He silences Stiles' protests with a glare and looks over healthy pink, warm skin.  Stiles grumbles and yanks his hands out of Derek's, and to his surprise the boy easily escapes his hold.  Stiles looks even more shocked at his strength; like bending his jeep's door was nothing, but being stronger than Derek is ridiculous.

"Okay, I have an idea."  Stiles declares.  "I want you."  And he points to Derek.  "To punch me in the face as hard as you can."

Derek shrugs and does just that as Scott shoots out of his seat to stop him.  "Fucking shit!" Too late to prevent Derek from breaking his hand, and skinning his knuckles on Stiles face.  The boy doesn't even take a step back for fuck's sake.

Stiles stares back at Derek clutching his ruined hand to his chest as it slowly heals.  "Holy shit!"  He throws his arms in the air.  "I'm fucking superman!"  And he shoots to the ceiling, head stopping mere inches from going through plaster.

Derek's day could not get any better.

"Oh man, oh man, please tell me I have x-ray vision."  And he stares unabashedly at Derek, his eyes squinting. 

Derek glares at him, and quickly lowers his healing hand down to his crotch.  "Stiles!"

"Damn it, doesn't work."  Stiles sighs, still hovering near the ceiling.

"So, is this a byproduct of humans running with werewolves?"  Boyd asks pointing at Stiles performing a masterful jig in the air, complete with jazz hands.  "Because if it is, I chose the wrong species." 

"I have no idea what is happening."  Derek sighs, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm Superman!"  Stiles floats horizontally and stretches his arms out, mimicking the classic pose.

"You're not Superman."  Derek grinds, exasperated with his immaturity.

"Dude, he's totally Superman."  Scott jumps up and high fives Stiles.

"We're going to need a new Batman."  Erica calls out.

"Give the title to Derek, he reeks of all the angst, all the time."  Stiles answers.

"Nah, he's more Constantine than anyone else."  Erica waves dismissively.  "How about Boyd?"  She slides up to the bigger boy.  "What do you say?  Hmm."  She runs her fingertips down Boyd's arm, and the stoic boy barely contains a shiver.

"Hey, keep it for the bedroom, guys.  I've got a bird's eye view of action I don't want to see."  Stiles wiggles his legs.  "Now how do I get down?"  He asks just as he crashes down onto the floor.  Neck first.

"Ouch man."  Isaac winces.

Stiles hops up, his arms out.  "I'm okay, I'm okay."  He cricks his neck.  "Surprisingly that didn't hurt at all."

"We need to talk to Deaton."  Derek states, folding his arms.

"I hope I don't need to be fixed.  Get it?   _Fixed_."  Stiles laughs, his elbow jabbing Scott, who immediately whines in pain, bending over and clutching his side.

"Shit.  My bad."

Deaton is surprisingly helpful.  He hands Stiles a jar and directs him to the clinic's bathroom.  "Pee in this."

Stiles salutes him.  "Yessir."  And marches off.

Derek calls out.  "Wash your hands."

"Yes dad."  Stiles retorts sarcastically.

Deaton calls the pack over the next day, his voice strained.  "We have a problem."

"What?"  Stiles squeaks.

"I'll need to perform some x-rays and more tests, but I'm absolutely sure that you aren't human or anything I've seen before."  Deaton states looking over Stiles' results.  "It's strange no doctor has noticed before."  Deaton's eyebrows furrow.

Stiles collapses back into his chair.  "Well this is just great."

"This is like a fucking sitcom."  Isaac says dramatically, bag of fritos balanced on his thighs.

"Hey, gimme some of that."  Stiles reaches out, and the fritos bag flies into his grasp.

"Fucking seriously?!"  Derek buries his head in his hands.  He's just waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for Stiles to turn into the Hulk.

"Hey I ain't complaining."  Stiles smiles at a dejected Isaac as he eats his corn chips.

The next day a group of omegas roll into town.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so very un beta'd, mistakes are mine.

"Maybe it's because you started swimming?"  Scott asks, his hands busy as he fights off hordes of zombies on Derek's Xbox, while Derek chops up kielbasa for bigos.  He bought some cabbage with the rest of the groceries, and wanted to try making the sauerkraut needed to complete the stew.  Stiles adores sauerkraut.  Derek vaguely knows that he could just buy the jarred pickled cabbage, but with the look on Stiles' face after Derek asked for Claudia Stilinski's recipe, he knew he had to at least try making it.

His wolf's attraction to Stiles is starting to adversely affect his human judgment.

"Huh?  I haven't taken up swimming."  Stiles looks up from his book, officially banned from touching anything expensive belonging to Derek.

"You smell like a chlorine pool."  Scott clarifies as he lobs a grenade at a zombie.  "Score!"

"It's ozone."  Derek frowns, putting the knife down in the sink, and washing his hands  "Boyd and Erica are here."

The loft door slides open with a bang.  "There are new wolves in town.  Boyd caught the scent at Trader Joe's."  Erica strides in, twirling a finger in her hair, as Derek wipes his wet hands down on a towel.

Scott raises his eyebrows at Boyd.  "Really?  Never would have taken you for the organic loving sort."

Boyd shrugs.  "They have my favourite pickles."

"And awesome organic coconut oil."  Stiles adds.

"Aww, somebody likes to moisturize?"  Erica purrs, scrubbing her fingers through Stiles' buzzed hair.

"That too, but you'd be surprised, it makes great lube."  Stiles says nonchalantly, turning a page.  Erica hmms, and sits beside Stiles on the couch.

Derek and Scott choke for two very different reasons.

"Hey!  This is a non-judgy space."  Stiles frowns at them.  "The one time I bought lube from CVS, Sherry told my Dad and he gave me the talk at dinner.  At dinner!"  He pouts, and Derek stares at his jutting lip.  "I did not need to have the safe sex conversation with my Dad.  That's what the internet is for." 

"Dude TMI."  Scott winces.

"That's rich coming from you Scott, 'Mr. I don't know what I'm doing, do you think Allison will notice?'  You spent days whining that you didn't know _how_ to lose your virginity."

"Hey, I told you that in confidence."  Scott throws Derek's controller at Stiles' head and it breaks, shooting plastic everywhere.  Stiles doesn't even blink.

"Oops."  Scott turns to Derek, puppy face armed.

Derek raises a finger.  "Don't say a word, McCall."

Derek finishes cooking, serving the pack dinner before they go out to track the omegas.  Stiles loves the traditional Polish stew, even if the rest of the pack hate it.

Derek finds the omegas first and they end up being idiots, making more trouble than they're worth.

"So you're the Alpha of this little hick town, huh?"  Derek's surrounded in the woods, the three omegas intimidating, circling him.

Derek's not worried, until the wind picks up, and suddenly he smells gun oil and wolfsbane, and the leader draws a glock out of holster from under his jacket.

"Really?  A werewolf using hunter's toys?"  Derek is disappointed in his species.  And only slightly worried about the weapon. 

Okay.  Maybe more than slightly.  He fucking hates getting shot.

"They're useful, especially when one wants such pretty red eyes as yours."  The leader aims the weapon poorly, and fires, right before he is picked up and whisked away.  The bullet completely misses Derek, and instead hits one of the omega's behind him, square between the eyes.  

Derek growls at the other one, and grabs him by the scruff, forcing him to the ground.  Pressing the heel of his shoe down hard on his neck.  "Submit."  He growls and the omega goes limp.

He deals with the wolf, sending him off with the body of his comrade, broken bones, and a warning.  Derek follows the scent of ozone to a clearing.  He smells Stiles and the unconscious leader, right before he catches the scent of the Sheriff.

"This is the police!  Hands up!"

"Uh.  Hi dad."  Stiles waves his unoccupied hand, the unconscious omega dangling in the other.

"Stiles?"  The Sheriff's voice rises an octave.  "Are you flying?!"

"Surprise."  Stiles makes dramatic jazz hands and drops the omega with a heavy thump to the forest floor, he groans but doesn't regain consciousness.

"Oh shi- shizzlesticks.  My bad."

Derek's pleased he didn't have to ride in the back of the squad car.  That spot reserved for Stiles, who spends the ride crossing his arms, muttering all forms of protestations.  The unconscious omega leader snoring softly beside him, drooling on the window.

After an age of rolling tumbleweeds, before which Stiles admits he spent the past two years running with werewolves, the Sheriff breaks the silence. "So, werewolves?"

"Yes, werewolves."  Stiles nods his head fanatically.

"And you're what?  A werebat?

"A what?!"  Stiles looks horrified.  "Did you just accuse me of being Dracula?  I know he is awesome in that one Buffy episode, but he's also a total douche.

The Sheriff glances at his son through the rear-view mirror.  "You were flying, Son."

"Technically flying would require me having wings, and since I don't appear to have extra limbs sticking out of my back, I was levitating."

Derek figures this is his cue to jump in.  "We're not entirely sure what Stiles is, Sir."

The Sheriff raises his eyebrows.  "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Everything started happening after his 18th birthday, and we haven't had time to do any research yet."  Derek's starting to think Stiles might even be a changeling, but he won't bring that up around the Sheriff until he's talked to Stiles first.

But then the Sheriff says.  "Maybe you're a fairy child."

"What?!"  Stiles squeaks.

"Like those stories your mother used to read you when you were little.  With the little men and their whipping cream addictions."  The Sheriff sighs, scrubbing his hand in his hair, the other clutching the steering wheel in a death grip. 

"I would've like to talk to you about this under different circumstances, and I was supposed to on your birthday, but... Stiles.  You're adopted."

Stiles rolls his eyes.  "Yeah. I already knew that."

"Huh."  The Sheriff says in surprise.

"I won't say who, but a certain dimpled somebody _may_ have helped me hack into the county database, and I _may_ have stumbled upon some files about not being the fruit of your loins."

"About how I found you in the woods, an abandoned newborn baby?  How Claudia and I adopted you because we couldn't have children?"

"No... It just said I was adopted."  Stiles' eyes are wide in shock.  "So, I am Superman." 

"Superman was an alien.  You're a fairy."  The Sheriff smirks at his son.

"Rude, dad, so rude."  A mischievous light appears in Stiles' eyes.  "At least you're finally acknowledging my gayness."

The Sheriff groans in frustration and partial acceptance, and Derek feels something warm light in his wolf's belly, before he bats the fuzzy feelings down.  _Just because Stiles might be gay, doesn't mean he's attracted to us._

His wolf whines, tail tucked between his legs.  He can be such a drama queen.  Derek isn't sure when Stiles stopped being the pack's human, and became Derek's human, but he's sure it was a long time before he was even legal.  Maybe when he began noticing the nuances in Stiles' scent; the baking bread, and finally the ozone.

All of a sudden there's a subtle change in the atmosphere of the car.  Derek sniffs, trying to find the source and abruptly he hears the omega's heart beat speed up.  "Fuck!  Stiles."  He calls out, warning the boy sitting only a foot away from the wakened wolf.

"What?"  Stiles questions before he notices the omega eyes open, flashing golden.  Stiles stiffens and jerks away.

Derek's about ready to climb into the backseat and knock the omega out again.  This time permanently, screw the Sheriff sitting only a foot away.  His wolf is screaming for him to protect _his_ human, _his_ Stiles. 

But Stiles beats him to it, reaches out, and taps the now growling omega on the temple with a knuckle.  He slumps dramatically back into the seat, unconscious. 

The Sheriff pulls over to the side of the road, gaping openly at his son.

Stiles' newfound strength is going to take some getting used to.  Derek's grown accustomed to protecting the squishy human.  The human his wolf happens to have laid claim to. 

Derek manages to convince the Sheriff to drop the unconscious omega off on the highway way out of Hale territory, instead of taking him to the station.  Crushing a handcuff into little tiny pieces as a demonstration of werewolf strength and the jail's inability to hold the wolf, convincing the Sheriff.

However he can tell that the man contemplates sticking Derek into a cell instead of dropping him back off at his apartment, just for dragging his son into his mess, but he doesn't, and Derek's grateful he's shackle and mug shot free.

The next evening Derek climbs into Stiles window, Deaton's results clenched in his hand.

"Turns out you're not fae."  Derek says, listening for the Sheriff's heartbeat, hearing only Stiles'.

Stiles startles, looking up from the large tome on his desk, he smiles at Derek.  "Could've told you that.  Faeries don't have super crazy strength."  He taps a page in the tome.  "They're actually slightly weaker than humans, but their shit tonne of magic makes up for it."

Derek places the papers down on Stiles' desk; x-rays and some blood work.  "Deaton found traces of magic in your system, he thinks that you must've had a glamour, or something like it, placed on you since your birth.  It probably lifted on your 18th birthday.

"It's the only thing that can explain this."  Derek pulls up a photocopied x-ray.

"Whoa!  What is that?"

"That would be your swim bladder." 

Stiles stares up at him, eyes wide.

"I'm joking.  Deaton calls it your flight bladder, he thinks it's how you levitate."  Derek flips to Stiles' blood work.  "You don't have hemoglobin to carry oxygen, but something else science has absolutely no name for."

Derek pats a shocked Stiles on the back.  "Congrats Stiles, apparently you haven't followed the evolutionary path of anything on this planet, including the fae.  Deaton thinks you might be extraterrestrial."

Stiles drops his head on the pile of papers on the desk. "Oh man.  This is gonna _kill_ my dad.  To think, a week ago, I only worried about staying alive long enough to get laid.  Now I gotta to worry about deadly alien allergies, and reining in my super strength so I don't crush my dad into a pulp when I hug him."

Derek awkwardly pats Stiles on the head.  His wolf snarls at him, urging him to cuddle his miserable mate, but Derek holds his instincts in.

Stiles turns to look up at Derek, tears in his eyes.  His voice breaks when he speaks.  "I never wanted to be anything other than human, what the fuck am I going to do now, Derek?"

And Derek gives in, wrapping up his human in his arms, and letting him cry into his shoulder, half disgusted at the snot Stiles wipes off on the side of his neck, half pleased Stiles is able to take comfort in him.

Derek purrs.

And he shoves Stiles off of him, clamping his hand over his mouth.

Stiles' eyes are wide, as they take Derek in.  "Dude, did you just make a vaguely cat-like noise in my ear?"

"Shut up Stiles."

Stiles crosses his arms and stares at Derek expectantly.

Derek sighs, running his hand through his hair.  "My wolf may have claimed you as his own."

"What?"

Derek frowns.  "He _thinks_ you are his mate."

Stiles laughs.

"What is so funny about this?"  Derek growls.  "Pray tell, Stiles."

"C'mon Derek, give me some credit here, do you think I'm an idiot?"  Stiles raises his eyebrow.  "I know for a fact that the wolf only chooses a mate the human side accepts."  Stiles stands up, and leans into Derek's space.  "Deaton's given me quite a lot of reading about wolfy mating behavior, and now I know why."

Derek is speechless.

"Derek, you want me."  Stiles smirks, poking his finger into Derek's left pec.  "You wanna do dirty, raunchy, wolfy things with _The Stiles_."  Derek feels his whole body blush, before grimacing at the boy's ridiculous use of third person.

"Quiet."  Derek places his whole open hand on Stiles' face.  Only to jerk back when he feels warm, wet muscle drag across it.  "God, you're disgusting.  I can't believe you just licked my hand."

"I could be licking _other_ appendages, if you'd like."  Stiles waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Derek sighs fondly, wiping his hand on Stiles' shirt, ignoring the protesting, "Hey!"  Derek reaches up and grasps the back of Stiles' neck, running his fingers delicately through the short hairs at his nape.

"I guess I should be grateful you don't have acidic saliva or something equally terrifying."  He scrubs his fingers, enticing a soft moan from Stiles, sending all of Derek's blood south of the border.

"Yeah... About that..."  Stiles trails off, smiling. 

"What now?"  Derek growls.

Stiles grins, his smile turning lascivious, looking down at Derek's crotch. "I totally have x-ray vision, Mr. locked and loaded."  He tackles Derek into his mattress, and the bed scoots forward, banging into the wall, raining plaster down.

Stiles smiles sheepishly, shaking his hair free of plaster.  "My bad."  Derek laughs and pulls him down into a searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know noth about dottore medical practices, so don't bite my head off if Deaton, a veterinarian, magically has a centrifuge in his back pocket to pull off discrete blood work in a day's time. 
> 
> It's a drabble peeps.
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :)
> 
> And now I've gotta finish my Sterek pirates (but not really) AU


End file.
